SCENE II.
An apartment in Contarini’s palace.—Enter Teresa.
Teresa.
Let him believe me false! Let him believe
I spurned at truth—if such a thought can heal
The bitter wound I planted in his breast!
But mine—why—let it fester, and grow rank,
And spread, and spread, till its consuming poison
Hath eaten life out! Let him curse and hate me!
Yet that were hard to bear! My misery, sure
Might claim some pity! I would fain be thought on
With grief, but not with scorn. I’d be remembered
Like a dim, far off vision, wan and sad,
Leaving a mournful yet a softened image,
Mellowed by passing time to tenderer hues,
To fade at length, like tremulous light, away!
Enter Stefano with a paper.
Stefano.
Lady—a cavalier without desired me
To give you this.
Teresa.
(Takes the paper, looks at it,—then hurriedly averts her head.)
And bade you bring the answer?
Stefano.
He did.
Teresa.
To write to him! to speak with him!
I must not;—will not! I have reared the barrier
That aye must sever us, and will abide
The die which duty cast.—Take it—Stefano—
Tell him there is no answer. [Exit Stefano.
Cruelty!
Must we not probe deep, to dig out the venom?
What matter if he deem me cold and proud?
I must be so—to him!
Enter Matilda.
Matilda.
Hush! I have tidings.
The unhappy Foscarini is without,
And craves to see you.
Teresa.
Me!
Matilda.
For one short moment.
Oh! had you seen him as he urged the boon—
So suppliant, so desperate! his voice
Tremulous with suffering.
Teresa.
Hold—Matilda—hold!
He is already answered.
Matilda.
How?
Teresa.
You ask?
Matilda.
Oh, do not be so stern! what wrong can chance
Or harm, if you will grant this poor request?
But just to bid farewell, he says;—and then
He’ll fly from you for ever, into lands
Where Venice is unheard of.
Teresa.
Urge no more!
I will not see him. Let him go—and bury
All thoughts of me for ever!
Matilda.
He’ll not go;
He will besiege you with his fruitless prayers,
Though you are deaf to them.—Think of his danger.
Teresa.
What?
Matilda.
His life is sought by secret enemies.
This is too certain; I myself have heard
Dark-boding threats from Contarini’s lips,
Uttered when he thought none beheld. You know
His cold blood-thirsty hate!
Teresa.
Oh, yes—too well!
Hasten Matilda! warn him—bid him ’scape
While there is time.
Matilda.
Alas! he will not heed
Warning, except from you.
Teresa.
What must I do?
Matilda.
Speak to him—bid him leave this fatal place.
He will obey you. Pause not! your delay
May seal his fate.
Teresa.
No—no—say I command,
Command him to be gone! by all that’s past—
(bitterly.) The past! what curse is in that word! what claim
Have I to his obedience?
Matilda.
Dear Teresa,
Weigh not a fancied duty ’gainst his life;
Think—should he fall beneath their eager swords—
And you the cause?
Teresa.
Oh heaven! Away—and tell him
I come.—I do no wrong—to save the innocent!
Lead the way—quick—but softly. [Exeunt.